Wind
by Nesloga
Summary: John watched as Jack gestured wildly while talking, not seeming to notice that with every wave of his hand a chilly breeze went passed by. Sequel of 'Move'.


_Word Count: 1,666_  
_A/N: Day fourteen of a writing challenge. Sorry if Jack and Sherlock are OOC. And John, I'm sorry if John got messed up._  
_Summary: John watched as Jack gestured wildly while talking, not seeming to notice that with every wave of his hand a chilly breeze went passed by._

**Wind**

When John told Sherlock that he wanted to know how he had survived he hadn't been expecting the consulting detective to smile while stating that it was repayment for a favor. Sherlock had been oddly forth coming with information; calmly answering all of John's questions while conducting his newest experiment -something to do with the rate that rats drool-. He had answered all of John's questions, with full, descriptive answers at that! John was tempted to force Sherlock to allow him to take his temperature; something had to be wrong with his flatmate.

Luckily, John didn't have to resort to that because Sherlock eventually snapped out of it. Refusing to say who had owed him a favor, keeping annoyingly silent as he ignored John. It got to the point that John burst out, demanding to know who had aided Sherlock.

A raised eyebrow. "Do you really want to know, John?"

"For god's sake Sherlock! Yes!" John ran a hand through his hair roughly, hoping that the motion would distract him from wanting to throttle the other man. It didn't work.

Sherlock stared at John for a while, taking in the frustration painted across his friend's face. "Alright, but there are some measures that must be taken if you are to meet him." John agreed to do anything that Sherlock thought was needed, and regretted it a mere hour later. The consulting detective had hauled stack after stack of books from somewhere in his room; all of them on fairy tales. More then half of them were books that mapped out how the stories of childhood were rooted in fact, how each whimsical tale had some grain of truth in it.

It took John over a month of non-stop reading to finish all of the books that Sherlock gave him, only leaving the mountain of books to get a sip of tea or catch a quick nap. By the time that he was finished he was beyond weary and autumn had crawled away leaving winter in its wake. Snow blanketed the streets and ice covered the roads. More then once forcing John and Sherlock to bundle up in extra layers. "I'm done Sherlock, I finished every book! Now, who helped you?"

"Patience John, one question first. What did you extrapolate from those books?" Green eyes drifted to the window, the curtains were pulled back and they could see that it was snowing again.

John sighed, tired of the whole thing. If he hadn't read all those stupid books already he would just give up, but he had, so he would get to the bottom of this. He would find out who had helped Sherlock. "The books suggested that children's stories were real, that the Tooth Fairy and Sandman are real."

"Excellent. And do you believe the books? Do you think such things as the Easter Bunny can exist? That Santa could actually live at the north pole? Do you believe in Jack Frost?"

John shot Sherlock a look, wondering if all the books he had read were just for the other's amusement. He wouldn't put it past his flatmate, hell, Sherlock wouldn't even look at him. His eyes were glued to that bloody window, "Sure, Sherlock. I think that all the stories are true. I believe in Jack Frost."

Sherlock turned his gaze to him then, a emotion that John couldn't decipher swirling in his eyes. "Could you repeat that John? I didn't quite hear you."

"I think that The Easter Bunny exists, Santa is real." John rolled his eyes as he sarcastically talked to his friend, "I believe in Jack Frost."

"You do? And here I thought that Sherlock was the only adult in the world that believed in me!" John turned around at the unfamiliar voice, almost falling over in his haste. When he righted himself and found the origin of the voice he was astounded; the white haired teen was floating in mid air! "By the way, the Easter Bunny is really a kangaroo. He goes by E. Aster Bunnymund, I've never been able to figure out what the 'E' stood for though." Jack Frost -and wasn't that something? Jack Frost was _real-_waved his hands while he talked, causing a cold breeze to chill the room. John did the only reasonable thing then, he fainted.

When he came to it was with a nasty headache; temples throbbing John opened his eyes a crack, taking in his surroundings. He was in his and Sherlock's flat, and for some reason almost everything was covered in frost. He pushed himself up then, closing his eyes as vertigo threatened to topple him but not before yelling at his flatmate. "Sherlock! How many times have I told you to keep that window closed? You're going to kill us with the cold!"

"Ah, I don't that will be much of a problem. The cold will leave as soon as I do."

John's eyes snapped open, the orbs unfocused as they wildly searched for the person who had just spoken. When he finally spotted the -supposedly- mythical teen John let out a whimper. "Sherlock, I thought you promised me that you wouldn't slip me anymore drugs. And don't you tell me that you haven't; my head is killing me and I'm obviously hallucinating."

"I didn't drug you John, I promised I wouldn't; anyway, you know I'm done with my drug studies. I completed them three months ago, really John, try to remember these things."

John closed his eyes tightly, ignoring Sherlock's exasperated complaints. This wasn't real, Sherlock was lying; or if he wasn't then John was deathly ill. It was one of those, because there was no way that Jack Frost was in his and Sherlock's living room. There was no way that Jack Frost was sitting on their couch drinking coffee- "Hey! That's mine!"

"John! Be polite, Jack's been very busy and he needed something to wake him up a bit." Sherlock glared at his friend, it was rare when he felt uneasy. But he did in that moment, John wasn't acting at all how he was supposed to. He had given the blonde all those books so the doctor would be accepting of Jack, he mustn't of read them all though. He was acting like he was surprised to see Jack, that he couldn't believe that the winter spirit was real.

"It's fine Sherlock, I'm sure John is just shocked. After all, it's not everyday that he get's to meet someone as awesome as me." Jack smiled then, lips pulling back to reveal sparkling teeth.

"Please. John is my flatmate, he sees more amazing things then you everyday. Me, for example." John watched semidetached as Sherlock and Jack snarked at each other, silently wondering how this had become his life.

"You both, just, keep at it. I'm going to... Go get myself some tea." He needed some desperately, it would hopefully calm his nerves.

John left the room quickly, avoiding getting to close to Jack who seemed to radiate cold; after making his way to the kitchen he sat down with a thump and stared at the wall blankly. Taking it all in. Jack Frost was in his living room arguing with his flatmate. He shook then, feeling the panic from before begin to well up. He tamped it down hastily, refusing to allow himself to lose control again; mustering up his last shreds of will power he made himself some tea. Occupying his shaking hands with pouring the hot liquid into a cup, after that was done he sat down and sipped at his beverage. Letting himself process it all. Jack Frost was real, he could handle this.

When John returned Sherlock and Jack were both sitting down, Sherlock listening as Jack talked animatedly, hands waving in the air. "And that's when I froze Bunny's feet to the ground- Oh, you're back." And with that John suddenly felt like a intruder in his own home, this teen clearly knew Sherlock; and Sherlock at least liked the white haired myth.

"Jack, this is John. He wished to know who saved me before."

At that Jack smiled, "Well, I was just repaying a debt. Can't go around owing a adult, you know? Bunny would never let me forget that I owed a _mortal_ a favor."

"You're really immortal then? You can't die?" John flinched back slightly when Jack's expression changed; the mischievous smile was gone and in it's place was a harsh look, it almost resembled a snarl. "Ah, you know what? Forget it! So, why do you owe Sherlock in the first place?"

Jack's smile came back then, his eyes lighting up as he began his tale. Summarizing how Moriarty had captured him and kept him locked away for a year -that explained why they hadn't gotten any snow that year-. How the mad man had constantly talked about Sherlock, day in and day out until one day he was gone and Jack was free. Sherlock was the one that made that possible, Sherlock had beaten Moriarty.

"I owed him after that, so I paid it back when he needed help disappearing." Jack explained then, going over how he had slowed Sherlock's descent enough for the consulting detective to survive with the help of the North Wind; happily recounting how he had weaved a illusion with magic he had borrowed from North to make it look like Sherlock had cracked his head open. And finally he went over how he had chilled Sherlock's body, bringing the brunette's core temperature down until he passed as dead.

John leaned back then and thought about all he had heard. Everything made sense now; how Sherlock had survived even though John had seen the cracks in Sherlock's skull that slowly oozed brain matter and blood. When he finished thinking about it he smiled at Jack, "Thank you for saving him. Thank you."

Jack's smile changed slightly, the mischievous edge softening into a happy grin. "You're welcome, it was the least I could do."


End file.
